


Be Thou My Vision

by Caedmon



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Fluff, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 08:33:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1851457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caedmon/pseuds/Caedmon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if meeting your soulmate changed your life in an immediate, radical way?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Thou My Vision

Natasha had always been colorblind, the one flaw in her that the enhancements hadn’t been able to fix. The Red Room had made her stronger, faster, smarter…improved her in every possible way, but they hadn’t been able to make her see colors. It had never bothered her or impeded her - she was still The Black Widow, world-renowned as the best spy and assassin on the planet - but she wondered sometimes what it would be like to see things in the colors they were meant to be in.

She was sitting in a bar in St. Petersburg, ribbons of silver-grey cigarette smoke swirling around her and then dissipating into the vodka-scented air, feigning interest in the fat slob who was yammering and making bedroom eyes at her to her left. Her job was what it always seemed to be: seduce the target, get the information, kill the target. She wasn't known as the Black Widow without cause. So she was doing her job, repressing the urge to shudder and actually seducing her mark, when suddenly the world exploded in brilliant color and the room seemed to glow just the tiniest bit. Natasha tried to maintain her calm, but her mind whirled as she tried to understand what was happening and why. Then, because she couldn't help herself, she applied color names to things - objects she had always seen her whole life and knew what color they were _supposed_ to be, but had always been a shade of grey to her. _That picture of a banana on that bottle, that must be 'yellow'. That chair is made of wood, that must be 'brown'. That chalkboard, that must be 'black'. My dress is supposed to be 'wine' or 'burgundy'._ Her concentration was shot, and her target noticed her disinterest. She acted quickly to regain his favor and an invitation home with him, cursing her unprofessional behavior. Just as she stood to leave, as suddenly as it came, the colors left and she was colorblind again. She had to sit down, looking around dazedly. Her mark asked her if she was okay, and she recovered as quickly as she could, smiling and telling him that the vodka had sneaked up on her. Her mind was reeling through possibilities, though. _Was I drugged? Is something wrong in my brain? What on earth could have caused that?_

She found herself very sad when she walked out onto the street and looked up at the stoplight. She would have really liked to know what 'red' and 'green' looked like.

*

Back at his penthouse, she was using all of her best moves to try to make up for her follies earlier in the evening. Natasha sat on the couch, slowly crossing her legs, smiling under hooded eyes and swirling her pink champagne in her fluted glass. "Why don't you join me?" He snatched up the other champagne flute in his fist like a child would and came over to her, practically tossing himself onto the couch next to her. She hoped that the repulsion in her face could be passed off as surprise; apparently it could, because he laughed.

The glass in the french doors shattered and her target fell to the ground beside her, an arrow in his chest. Natasha drew the .22 she kept strapped to her thigh like lightning, throwing herself behind the couch and crouching low as the assassin entered the room at the precise moment the room exploded into glowing color again. 

She gave a little gasp and covered her mouth quickly, then recovered just as quickly, hoping she hadn’t given away her location. A stupid, rookie mistake. Natasha heard him circling around, positioning himself to get at her. She had to act, so she sprung upwards. He fired an arrow at her wrist as she rose up to shoot him; she dropped her weapon, pulling her injured arm into her her and sucking in her breath. He nocked another arrow and fired as she reached with her left hand for her backup pistol, hitting her in the thigh, causing her to curl around the wound. He was less than two feet away from her now, arrow nocked, bowstring drawn, ready to fire.

Natasha looked at him, and drew in another short breath. His eyes were blue, vibrant blue. She’d never seen anything so beautiful in her life, and this man was about to kill her. She was appalled at herself for being so attracted to someone who had her at his mercy, and hissed at him in Russian as he pointed the arrow at her forehead. _”What have you done to the lights, to make colors?”_ She noted the widening of his eyes, registering a brief moment of surprise. _”Did you drug me? Did you slip something into my drink to make it easier to kill me, you pig?"_ His blue eyes never left hers, but he looked deep in thought and she sensed a moment of weakness. It was now or never. _"You won’t get to!”_

She rose to launch herself at him, and he turned the bow to the side, firing the arrow harmlessly into the couch. The man toppled her to the ground, grappling with her. She was frustrated by her injuries and unable to fight him as she normally would; he subdued her and bound her wrists and ankles quickly.

 _”Someday, maybe someday very soon, you will realize that I just did you the greatest favor you can imagine. And you’ll thank me._ ” His Russian was articulate but lightly accented.

Natasha spat at him, hitting the ground beside him. He took out a phone and made a call. “Coulson. I need an extraction. No, I actually have her in custody. Yes. No, I know what my orders were, and I made another call. Look, I need you to just trust me on this one. Come get us and I’ll explain back on the boat.” He looked back at her. _”You’ll thank him, too. Trust me._ ”

*

Natasha sat in the holding cell where she’d been for the last 5 days, waiting. She wasn’t sure for what, but she waited. There were several people who came to talk to her regularly - medical personnel to tend to her wounds, interrogators who asked her about her time with the KGB and as a free agent, and even the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. had come to get a look at her, telling her that she was getting a shot at redemption. Natasha didn’t want a shot at redemption, she wanted freedom. 

None of these people upset her, though, she just didn’t speak to them. The one person who upset her - who rattled her and left her shaken every time - was the man who had taken her captive. He came to see her every day, and every time he walked into the room or she was taken to him, the colors and glow came back. He was always kind, always gentle in word and spirit, and Natasha tried to tamp down the instinct that told her that she could trust this man. She tried hard not to show her unquiet around him, knowing she was failing at times. Natasha took some satisfaction in the fact that he was also disturbed by her presence and sometimes unable to hide it. He didn’t appear to be afraid, but was definitely disturbed. 

He had introduced himself as Clint Barton and told her that they were going to become best friends. He had told her that he was going to teach her about S.H.I.E.L.D. and recruit her to the agency. He seemed supremely confident about his ability to do this, and it rattled her that she when she looked into his eyes, she didn’t doubt that he would be ultimately successful. That would leave her working near this man who left her off-balance all the time and made her see colors. She was incredibly attracted to him, and angry at herself for it. Clint Barton was the enemy, and she couldn’t afford to be attracted to the enemy. It was dangerous.

Her cell door opened and the guards beckoned for her. She turned around, offering her wrists. They cuffed her and walked her to the interrogation room, where she knew he would be waiting. Natasha had no idea how she knew, she just _knew_. 

The guards opened the door to the interrogation room, she stepped inside and the room burst into color. Natasha stifled a sigh and braced herself to be in the room with him for the next few hours. Their training sessions were only grueling because she was fighting herself - to stay silent and to not be attracted to him. 

Clint spoke to the guards. “Will you uncuff her, please?” Natasha tried not to show surprise, turning and giving her wrists to the guards. They unlocked the cuffs and Clint gestured to the empty chair at the table with an open hand. “Please, have a seat.” He smiled, a genuine smile that made her scowl. She rubbed her wrist as she sat down. The guards left the room, closing the door behind them.

“Have you ever heard of the Moore Effect?”

She didn’t answer. She’d made up her mind not to speak to him if she could possibly help it; the less she talked to him, the more likely she was to escape from this place without doing something stupid, like revealing her attraction unwittingly.

He waited a few beats then sat down across from her, reclining and crossing his booted feet on the table between them. _Utterly confident, all the time._ “Have you? I’m betting you haven’t, but I’m certain you’re aware of what it is, at least of it's effects. I’d bet my life on it, and I really like being alive.” Clint curled his lips a bit at her. Natasha cut her eyes at him, and his smile widened at her annoyed expression.

“Let me tell you a little something about myself, Nat.” She fought the urge to….she didn’t know what exactly….for giving her a nickname. That was entirely too intimate for her liking. She looked over at the wall, trying to indicate her disinterest in him and his life. “I’m the best marksman in the world. I have the best vision on the planet, despite being colorblind.”

Natasha went ramrod straight and her eyes jerked over onto him, into his blue eyes. 

“You’re colorblind, too.”

She didn’t answer, she just kept staring into his eyes, knowing she was giving the answer and her shock away, not caring.

“But you’re not when I’m around, are you?”

Her eyes widened just a fraction, and he adjusted himself in his seat, leaning forward on the table, propping himself on his elbows, never breaking their eye contact. “You’re not colorblind anymore when you’re in the same room with me, are you? You see colors when I’m around. Tell me.”

Natasha felt her jaw slackening and managed to catch it before her mouth opened. 

“I know you do. Do you want to know how I know?” She just stared at him. “Because I see colors, too. I’ve never seen them before in my life, but I see them when you’re around.”

Natasha didn’t catch her jaw this time, and her mouth formed a tiny little ‘o’. 

He slid a file across the desk. “Read this. Or I can explain it to you. Whichever you prefer.”

She looked down at the file and took it into her hands, reading ‘The Moore Effect - PROJECT CLOSED. FUNDING DENIED.’ She spoke for the first time. “What does it say?”

He smiled at her. “It's going to blow your mind and you're going to think I'm lying, but you can read it for yourself if you don't believe me. Everything I’m about to tell you is well-documented, and not just by S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“What does it say?”

“There was a brilliant scientist named Ian Moore who did all kinds of research, discovered all kinds of stuff. He was widely acclaimed around the world.”

“I am familiar with his work.”

“Well, he had one theory that was much lesser-known. Moore claimed that certain people were born colorblind, and when they met one other person, those two people shared a connection that would allow them to suddenly see colors. He researched this theory for a couple of decades while he did his other work, finally ending up at S.H.I.E.L.D., but he was never able to definitively prove his theory fully.”

“Prove what?”

Clint took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head and propping his feet back on the table. “Ms. Romanov, this is probably going to come as a shock to you, but you and I are soulmates." Natasha absorbed his words for a second and then slumped back into her chair. _Soulmates?_

"According to Moore’s theory, you and I were both colorblind until we met each other because our souls were incomplete. As soon as our souls recognized each other, that broken part of us began to heal. Furthermore, according to the theory, as soon as you and I both acknowledge that we are soulmates and act on it, the colors will be permanent. We will be cured of colorblindness and, er, ‘be able to see all of the beauty in the world around us’ forever, if you’ll forgive the cliche description.”

Natasha just stared at him. Her head was spinning, her mind racing. _Could this be true? Was he making this up? Was this why she had been so instantly attracted to him? What happened if she didn’t act on it? What the hell should she do now?_

He continued, “I was aware of Moore and his research on this. When I saw colors in the club that night, I was suspicious. Then I saw them in the hotel room, and you asked me about them. So, you see, I knew what you were, and of course, I couldn’t kill the woman who is meant to be my partner for life.”

Natasha blinked and shook her head the tiniest bit, not even knowing what she was contradicting or denying. She was overwhelmed with shock, disbelief and fear. And although she didn't want to acknowledge it, there was a part of her that was excited...happy...hopeful.

“Oh, and another thing. Moore died only needing one more couple to prove his hypothesis. You and I are it. We’re the proof. Congratulations to us.”

She finally cracked and buried her face in her hands, exclaiming softly in Russian. _Was she really meant to spend her life with this man? Could she believe what she was hearing?_

She couldn’t deny the colors, and it would be wonderful to have them forever. _Would it be so terrible if she had to spend her life with the man who had spared her life? Could she really trust him? Could she learn to trust him? Could the Black Widow actually be meant to have a happily ever after?_ Unbelievable. She willed herself not to cry from the battery of emotions assaulting her. 

“So, Ms. Romanov, you and I are going to get to know each other very well, because we’re meant for each other." She looked back up at him. Her eyes searched his, looking for answers, validation, reassurance...something. _Anything?_ "We’ll know all of each other’s secrets and trust each other implicitly." She sat back in her seat and took deep, shuddering breath. "But don’t worry, Nat. There’s absolutely no rush here." 

He smiled at her. "Me and you, we’ve got forever.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a post that came across my tumblr a couple of weeks ago, I can't find it now. The idea was basically 'what if you didn't see colors until you met your soulmate?'
> 
> My tumblr is caedmonfaith, in case you want to stop by and say hi :)


End file.
